Chapter 23— Helpless and Defenseless.

Deven's POV:

"Get away from me you scum!" I exclaim as he—Jonathan— moves closer to me.

He doesn't take heed to my cry. His eyes are shamelessly roaming from my upper to my lower body with every bit of dangerous lust swimming in them.

I crawl away from him but there's so little space between the wall and me that I'm practically molded into the wall.

I should be used to this. Used to men eyeing me inappropriately. Used to men having their way with me against my will, no matter how much disgust I feel, but I'm not used to it.

I try to cover myself with my arms but the chains restrict my movement.

"Stay back!" I yell as tears begin to gather in the corner of my eyes.

His lips begin to twitch and maniacal laughter leaves his mouth.

My chest heaves as my breath becomes shallow.

"I find it unfair that the boss gets a taste of you but the rest of us don't," he complains, "but since he isn't here today, I figured I'd take my chance."

"I'm not a toy! You guys don't get to use me any way you want!" I yell.

"But we are," he smiles wickedly and walks closer to me till he's standing in front of me.

I look up at him with fear as tears stream down my face.

His hands make their way to his zipper and I become paralyzed.

My brain, my heart, and my nerves implore me to do something; to escape my miserable fate.

'Run,' they chant.

'I can't move,' I reply.

'Do something! We can't go through this again!' they weep.

'Do something,' they chant.

'Do something.' 'Do something.' 'Do something.'

Their chant clouds my judgment, and so does pressure and confusion. I feel like a hundred people are screaming different suggestions at me at once and I can't shut them off so I do what I always do, I scream.

Tension dissipates my nerves and it hits me that my scream was in vain.

No one in this forsaken building will come to help me. I don't know why I screamed because no matter how many times I wail no one ever frees me from my unfortunate fate.

As soon as that thought runs through my mind, the door bursts open, and Doyle rushes in.

I was wrong. I am wrong. I will always be wrong about someone never coming to save me because Doyle always came to save me and he has come to save me.

Tears continue to run down my face but this time its tears of joy.

Doyle's eyes roam my figure and unlike Jonathan, Doyle looks at me with concern and comfort. I feel safe and comfortable under his gaze.

He looks at Jonathan with an angry expression as he fully enters the room.

And for the first time since he's been here, I notice what's behind him.

What is behind him? What are those?

Wolves.

My uncle was right all along. Wolves are real.

My eyes widen in terror and astonishment.

That means Doyle is a wolf.

In the blink of an eye, he negates my doubt, and he shifts. His form is bigger than the others which means he's the alpha.

I marvel at his form.

So that's his secret; he's a wolf— An Alpha.

"You're dead," he growls.

My eyes widen at his vulgarity. The Doyle that I know has never and will never say something like that.

"Let's all be calm, Mr. Adams," my reality says—my uncle.

My breath seizes as I meet my uncle's eyes.

He smiles sinisterly as he eyes me. "They came for you."

Doyle turns around and growls at my uncle as he strides toward him.

Jonathan notices Doyle moving toward his boss and shifts as well.

Jonathan tries to pounce on Doyle and my heart leaps in affliction as I yell, "Doyle, look out."

With sharp reflexes, Doyle moves out of the way, and one of his men leaps on Jonathan.

I turn my head and tightly shut my eyes with a disgusted expression on my face as I hear Jonathan's head being ripped off.

What the heck did I get myself into?

I open my eyes and look at the rest of them. They seem unfazed and ready to kill especially Doyle.

"Wow! What a wonderful sight!" my uncle comments.

"I always knew Jonathan was weak," he grimaces.

My stomach is disturbed by the visual I've been given and the smell of blood.

Doyle puffs and juts his head to my uncle.

I don't know what it means but my brain immediately registers the signal as 'kill him.'

"Don't," I pause when all their attention is on me, "kill him," my voice mellows out as I finish my sentence.

Doyle stares at me as he turns his body and matches toward me. His eyes are no longer emerald with golden flecks, they're just golden.

"Doyle," I let a breathy whisper as he moves closer to me without breaking eye contact.

He growls but somehow it doesn't make me feel threatened yet I mold further into the wall.

He walks over to where my chains are bonded and breaks them.

I grab my wrist, rub them, and draw my legs into me.

Doyle stares at me but for some reason, I feel shy so I don't meet his eyes.

I see his paw as he walks toward my uncle and juts his head outside before walking past my uncle.

****

I watch my uncle and Doyle circle each other while the others gathered around them while watching intensely.

I don't like the tension in the atmosphere.

Everyone is watching closely; they're all on edge. They don't know which leader is gonna come out victorious. The pack members are hissing at each other in obvious enmity. The look in their eyes tells me they're waiting for one Alpha to pounce on the other so war will be declared.

I'm on the edge of my seat waiting in anticipation to see everything unfold. My hands are sweating, my thighs are clenched, and my heart is racing in fear that Doyle will get hurt.

With each minute that passes, their distance becomes narrower, then finally, my uncle, being the stupid one, strikes first.

He lunges at Doyle. He opens his mouth and aims at Doyle's throat making me bite my lips in concern.

Doyle swerves away from my uncle's attack and straightens his stance. He narrows his eyes at my uncle and growls at my uncle, who's nearing him inch by inch before he howls.

This signals the beginning of the war between the two packs.

My eyes cloud with tears because I can't do anything to help but pound my fist against the window of the car and watch as they slash and slaughter each other while praying that Doyle comes out of this unscathed. That's my prayer but my gut tells me otherwise.

"Please be okay," I close my eyes, rest my head against the car window, and whisper, "everyone. Please be okay."

I leave my eyes closed while my ears take in the howls, whimpers, and whines of both packs. I just hope it's mainly from my uncle's pack. All of a sudden the noises are cut short and so is the riot.

I open my eyes immediately to find out why when I see my uncle laying helplessly and defenseless on the ground. My heart begins to leap with joy but that joy turns to dread when I see Doyle in the same position— helpless and defenseless.

No!